The Bottle
by Blue Angel 1245
Summary: The bottle is wreaking havoc on Butch and Jo's relationship. Can they overcome the bottle's hold over their marriage?


The Bottle

Jo walked in circles around her vault apartment. The days flowed together as she continued to pace and watch the door, praying for it to open and show the face of the person she was waiting for. Three days, three days since the argument and three days since he stormed out. Three days of pacing, and three days of sleeplessness. It wasn't the first time he went out, drinking and roaming the halls of the vault. Their fight had been about his drinking and the late nights he spent out, doing who knows what. Finally when she couldn't take the quiet anymore she left the apartment and went to her mother-in-laws.

Ellen Deloria answered the knock on the door looking less drunk then normal.

"Jo, wasn't expecting you." she said, her words surprisingly clear, even though her breath stunk of the whiskey she'd been drinking.

"Ellen, have you seen Butch? He hasn't been home for 3 days. We had a fight and he stormed out." she asked in a hushed voice aware of the quiet of the vault. Ellen slowly shook her head.

"No, Jo, haven't seen him. Maybe he's with Wally or Paul?" she reached out and grasped the younger woman's hand and gave it a squeeze when she saw her face go from hopeful to disappointment, to resignation. Jo nodded and walked away.

"Butchie...what are you doing, son?" Ellen whispered to the now empty hallway. She shook her head and went back inside.

Jo check Wally's apartment, and Paul's, Amata's, Freddie's and even her father's. No one had seen him and all were sympathetic. James, even a little angry at seeing his daughter so saddened and resigned. With a shake of his head he closed his door and made a promise to himself that he'd not sit back and watch his daughter sink further into helplessness.

Jo walked back to her apartment she shared with Butch. Her husband hadn't returned, not that she expected him too. She walked in and made it as far as the kitchen before she couldn't hold in her sobs anymore. She slid down the cabinets until she sat on the floor and buried her head in her knees and cried. She didn't know how long she sat there before sliding over to lay on the floor. Her cheek resting on the cold metal, she let the tears pool under her.

Butch was closer then Jo thought. He was holed up a few doors down from his own apartment. The apartment he was in was abandoned and the only light in it was from his pipboy. The static of the vault radio blazed out of the speaker and Butch blearily looked at the bottles around him. He lifted the bottle of whiskey to his mouth and downed a huge gulp. He was a fool, he knew it, knew that if he didn't stop he'd lose her, that she'd leave him. Even as these thoughts flowed through his head he brought the bottle up to his mouth again and drank deeply. After two more huge gulps he felt the nausea roll through him and barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting up all the liquor he just downed. When he was done, he laid on the bathroom floor, with is cheek pressed to the floor and passed out, not knowing his wife was in a similar position a few doors down.

Butch woke to the feeling of water splashing on his face. He lifted his head and glared at the light shining in his face. The light slowly lit up the person holding the flashlight. James scowled down at him and Butch let out a groan and let his head fall back to the floor.

"Butch, how long do you think this is going to last? Jo is a wreck and you made her that way. She loves you, and I, despite my hesitations, know you love her. You can't live this way anymore. Something's going to break and it's either going to end with heartbreak or healing. Your choice." James moved the light off Butch and stood up about to walk out of the door when he heard the young man behind him move. A hand grasped the pant leg of his vault suit.

"I...I can't lose her…" Butch said feebly. James looked over his shoulder at him and shrugged. His eyes while angry were also sympathetic. He reached a hand down and hauled Butch to his feet, keeping his grip on his hand as Butch stumbled and caught himself.

"You need help. We don't have a therapist in the vault, but I do have training and if you really want to quit, really want to deserve her, I'll help you". James lead Butch back to the clinic and the quiet of the vault made Butch realize it was either really late or very early. How many days has it been since he'd stormed out on his wife?

"How long has it been?" he asked the doc as they walked the quiet halls, Butch unsteady in his attemps to keep up with James' long stride. James slowed as he noticed Butch's wavering gait. He sighed and held up three fingers. Butch's shoulders hunched even more and a sob caught in his throat. James looked surprised at Butch's loss of control and the tears welling in his eyes. Butch shook off his hand when he rested it on his shoulder.

"Butch, it'll be okay, you'll get through this. It won't be easy, and it won't be fast. Once it's done, you won't be able to drink anymore. Relapse is always going to be a possibility, especially at first and while, temptation may be there, it'll get easier." Butch's choked sobs broke through and finally he let James embrace him as he cried out his feelings of helplessness and finally admitted he needed help to himself. He loved his mother, but he didn't want to end up like her, alone and known as the vault drunk.

Butch stayed in the clinic for the rest of the night and into the next afternoon. James helped him with his hangover and told him in no way was he allowed to leave the clinic while he withdrew from the alcohol and went through treatment to stay sober. He would not have Jo around Butch's potential anger and irritation, pain and sickness. As much as Butch resented James telling him he couldn't see his wife, he understood and even grugingly agreed.

Jo was awakened by her father gently shaking her shoulder. As she opened her eyes and felt the puffiness of her eyes, and the pain in her neck from sleeping on the kitchen floor, she felt the tears well. Her father looked at her and gave a sad sigh.

"I found him, Jo. He was in an abandoned apartment a few doors down. He was drunk, and had been drinking for days, judging by the amount of bottles scattered around." Jo's eyes swung to his as tears ran down her cheeks. She started to get up when he put a hand on her arm.

"No, Jo. He's in the clinic sleeping off the hangover and he's going to remain there for treatment. He wants help to get better. I am going to help him through the withdrawals and the counseling he needs to quit his addiction. I don't want you to see him, yet. Withdrawals can cause erratic behavior and anger. I don't think it would be a good idea for you to be around while he's going through treatment. He needs to focus and while I'm happy to help him, he needs to be there for himself. He's acknowledged that he wants to get better for you, but he needs to do it for himself as well or it's not going to work." James looked at his daughter making sure she understands. At her small nod she slowly stood up and leaned against the counter.

"Thank you, dad. I know you didn't agree when we got married, and I know it's taken a lot for you to understand. He wasn't always this bad, not at first. I think maybe being on our own and having our own income gave him an in to whatever alcohol he wanted, and I didn't realize it until it was too late. I should have known, with his history with his mom and her alcoholism, that he'd be more susceptible to the addiction. If I'd just paid more attention, stopped him when I knew he was drinking too much." she tailed off on a shrug. "Maybe I could have prevented it getting to this." More tears ran as a crushing guilt washed over her.

"Jo, it's not your fault. Even if you'd taken all the alcohol out of your apartment, if the addiction is strong enough, he'd find some and just hidden it from you more. It is a disease, he's sick Jo and like any sickness, he needs help and treatment. Also like any chronic sickness, it'll always be there. After treatment he won't be able to drink, he will always feel the temptation, but over time, it'll get easier for him to ignore it. The beginning will be the hardest, and when he needs you the most. You'll have to be his voice of reason when the temptation to drink hits. I don't know how long his withdrawal and counselling will take, but it's worth it, no matter how long it takes." James gathered Jo into a hug and held her as she cried again. Her sobs stabbed though his heart and he felt his anger at Butch well up again. He pushed the anger down and let out a sigh. He'd help Butch, not beacuse he liked him, but because he loved Jo, and Jo loved Butch. It has been difficult for him to watch Jo's helplessness as the addiction took over her husband and became more important than her. The dreams Jo had as a child of love, marriage and family, seemed to be dissolving before him and he finally couldn't stand back and watch anymore. He knew that she desperately wanted a family, but she needed a sober husband first, and he knew if anything happened to Butch because of his addiciton, she'd never have that family she so badly wanted, because she'd never love anyone else. Jo loved Butch so deeply, it rivaled his love for his beloved Cathrine. He'd never loved again after losing her, and Jo was so much like him that he knew she was the same.

Jo eventually drew back from the hug and dried her eyes with a kitchen towel. As her dad watched she drew herself up and cleared her throat. After a moment she walked over to her desk, switched the lamp on and drew out some paper and a pen. He watched as she wrote and signed her name before folding the paper in thirds and walking to him.

"I know I can't see him, but can you give this to him please? I just need him to know how much I still love him and that I'm here waiting for him." she shrugged a little self conscious as she held out the letter and saw the shaking in her hand. James took it and nodded, after one last hug he left and headed to his own apartment for some sleep before the hard days ahead. On his way back to his own apartment, James stopped at the clinic and checked on Butch. He was deep asleep, so James left Jo's letter on the table next to Butch's cot and went home.

Butch woke to a pounding head hours later and slowly sat up as the room spun around him. Instinctively he reached over for the bottle that had been his constant companion for so many days. Instead of finding the bottle his hand fell flat onto a piece of paper. As he squinted at it, he realized it had his name on it. As he brought it to his face he recognized his wife's elegant script and he felt his face flush with guilt as he opened it.

"My Butch,

I know this is going to find you with a headache and upset stomach so I won't say that I hope it finds you well. Look what you've done to yourself, you silly man. You know how much I love you, but I felt the need to tell you again. I love you! I know you're at the clinic to get help, and I'm so happy to hear that. You scared me, Butch. You were heading down a road, I didn't know how to stop or help with and I was afraid I'd lose you to this addiction. You're my heart, my life, and I can't live life without you, so I'm here, and I'll be here when you're ready.

All my love,

Your Jo"

Butch felt tears sliding down his cheek and brushed it away as he held the note. He didn't deserve her and he didn't understand how she could still love him so much, but he knew he had to get past this, for her sake, as well as his own.

The treatment was long and it was excruciating. Butch had never felt that miserable in his life. Worse than any hangover he'd ever had and there were many times he almost broke. His commitment to Joanna, and his own determination to not be ruled by his addiction kept him going. His Jo was waiting for him and he'd be damned if he lost her now. James was his constant companion through it all, his voice of reason. Always the one to remind him of his own resolve to get better for Jo, but also for himself. His mother was known in the vault as the drunk. He would NOT be known as the same. His childhood was hanging over him like a brick, waiting to fall. He wanted children, and he would not give them the childhood he had. He'd make sure they had a better one, a loving one. Before Joanna, Butch hadn't known love in so long. Before his dad left, his mother had loved him, but after, she could barely look at him without anger. He looked too much like his dad. Butch didn't blame his dad, he didn't even if he was alive. No, Butch didn't blame his mother either, he felt nothing, but pity for her. Love, he supposed he loved his mother, but only because she was his mother. There was no affection lost between them.

The days melted into months and after three months of constant counseling and mentor ship, Butch walked out of the clinic, free of his tormenting demons. His first stop was to find some small token for Jo. His faithful, loyal, Jo. She had sent him letters everyday and had made sure he knew she loved him. He'd been able to buy a sweet roll off of Old Lady Palmer and knew it'd make Jo laugh remembering her tenth birthday. Treat in hand he headed to their apartment. Being Saturday, he knew she'd be home, with no work or appointments. Knocking on the door, Butch tried to stop his shaking. He felt foolish, shaking like a leaf and wondering at his reception.

Joanna opened the door and stopped breathing. Butch stood before her holding a sweet roll and smiling. Her eyes raked over him and she took in the healthy glow in his eyes, the slight blush he couldn't hide. His cheeks were fuller and his shoulders broader. The healthy diet of regular meals, lacking of alcohol had filled him out where he'd thinned out before. She smiled and grabbed him into a tight hug, holding him tightly. The tension Butch felt melted at the feel of his wife's arms wrapped around him. Jo held Butch for a long time, just savoring being able to touch him after three long months. Finally, she stepped back and pulled him into their apartment with a quiet "Welcome home."


End file.
